Problems of A Weak Man
by driter
Summary: If you're honest with yourself, you have two girlfriends." A/U fallout to Derek's School of Dating. One-shot. Dasey. Duh.


**I enjoyed writing my "Listen Closely" one-shot, and after FINALLY seeing Derek's School of Dating I literally had to write something on it.**

**So this is basically another 2nd POV piece from Derek's perspective. It's a sort of A/U follow up to the episode.**

**Hope you enjoy ... :)**

--

If you're honest with yourself, you have two girlfriends.

One's cute.

The other's hot.

One's sweet.

The other's bitchy.

One will kiss you on the lips, talk sweetly to you, and play fooseball.

The other won't kiss you on the lips, won't talk sweetly to you, and won't play fooseball because she might break a nail. But, she'll take on a giant line-backer.

One you have.

The other you want.

One's Sally. Which is obvious.

The other's your stepsister. Which should probably have been obvious, too.

You're screwed. Which is definitely obvious.

So you try to play it down; but you're a man. And, you have weaknesses.

--

First, her bedroom.

--

"What are you doing here?" Casey asks, all huffy and stomping as she comes in her room.

You smirk—lazily because you know it will annoy her—and sprawl out on her bed. "Reading your diary. Why? You wanna join me?"

"Derek!" she shrieks, dropping her bag, "Stop it!"

"Wait; I'm just getting to the good part." You clear your throat and raise the pitch of your voice, "'_Chris looks so awesome in soccer shor-_"

She smacks you and you drop the journal and grab for her until she's on the bed with you—which, did you mention how much you love her bed?—reaching for the book by her pillows.

"You are such an idiot!" she cries.

"What? You're always telling me to read more? I thought we could do it together."

"Get. Off. My. Bed."

Her socked foot clobbers you in the chest and you tumble to her carpet.

"I'm starting to feel a bit unwelcome, Case."

"Well, why don't you come over here so I can give you a proper '_welcoming_'?" she growls at you.

She's still on her bed, on all fours no less; and you're pretty sure this isn't supposed to be so hot.

Can she just not help it?

Your brow cocks and you actually find yourself taking a step towards her, when the door creaks open. It's your dad.

Woah, he _does _have good timing.

"Derek, it's Sally. Again," He says, holding out the house phone. He glances over your shoulder and asks bemusedly, "Casey, what are you doing?"

"We're playing fetch," you answer with a smirk. And, you can't see her glare, but you know it's there, "I was going to take her for a walk, but-"

"Der-reck!"

You take the phone and dodge a flying book.

--

You sort of constantly talk about her. Meanly of course; but constantly.

You should probably stop that.

--

"God, she's such a loser," you murmur to your girlfriend, leaning on the counter.

You're watching her, and Sally follows your gaze across the restaurant, where Casey's barricaded by books and tea. Your gaze travels down to her skirt and then where it ends, and you really hope Sally's not following that.

"Funny," you hear her mumble, "She says the same about you."

So they're still talking about you with each other? That's got to stop.

But, you laugh it off. "Heh; well I'm not the one who studies in public."

"Or in private."

She smirks at you a little, coyly, and yeah that's kind of cute. But, your eyes slide back to Casey.

"She's probably just a little bummed about the whole Max thing…"

You fucking hate Max.

."…that's probably why she's throwing herself so much into school work, you know? I mean, when I broke up with Patr-"

"Trust me, it's all the time," you say, and only later do you realize you cut her off, "I mean, she even color-codes her homework assignments."

"Yeah. That's…really crazy, Derek," Sally says quietly. And, you can tell she's losing interest. But, you're not.

"Blue for long term, green for coming up, and red for an all out keener emergency," you recite dryly.

She shifts away. "Hmmm."

"Yeah, it's stupid." You shrug and check something off your clipboard, before turning to her with a sigh, "What's up with you, though?"

Sally smiles at this. "Nothing much," she says, giving you a little hip bump, "Just excited about our little movie date this weekend."

"Yeah, I practically had to vanquish Casey to get the car for us."

"Oh, how sweet," Sally says with a snort.

"Well, yeah, you know she's all neurotic or whatever. Apparently planned some uber lame mall visit with Em' like a month ago, and couldn't bear the thought of canc-"

"Ah!" Sally squeaks, dragging your eyes back away from your stepsister, "Table five's open, we totally spaced. I'll catch up later, okay, babe?"

"Okay."

You finish your paperwork; and then send Casey one last glance before rolling your eyes and going back to work.

--

Another weakness: you have to protect her. Kind of a lot.

It's stupid.

--

"What's crackin', Iron Case?"

You've followed the smell from your bedroom down to the kitchen to behind her at the stove. And, you're pretty much determined to have whatever she's making; but, she rolls her eyes at you.

"This is for George's dinner party," she says, "Which means it's _not_ for you."

"Fine, be like that." You brood—read: pout—as you grab a stool, "I'll just sit here by my lonesome. Slowly, helplessly, painfully dying of starvation-"

"Ungh, you're such a baby."

She slaps a spare pastry in front of you and you instantly devour it. God, her desserts her sexy. Especially when she lets you have them.

There's chopping and you realize she's moved to vegetables, which are considerably less sexy, so you stand to leave.

But then…

"_Damnit!"_

She almost never curses and you turn to her. Her face is pinched, and her eyes are stinging with moisture as she grips her left hand.

"I cut myself," she says to you. And, there's embarrassment there, but mostly pain and a pleading gaze.

"Well, what did I tell you about playing with sharp objects?"

Your words are cold, but your hands are warm, gentle as you fold around her, your left hand on her shoulder, and the other grasping hers.

"Owww, owww, it really hurts," she gasps, letting her head press into your chest.

"That's what knives generally do." You gingerly try to peel away her top hand, "Let me see."

"Okay."

Her head's now fully tucked into your chest, right under your collarbone. You clasp her fingers, studying them.

"It's fine," you whisper, "A little deep, but it's fine."

"You sure?"

She hates blood.

"I'm sure."

Her head shifts up, and your eyes slide from her hand to her scrunched up face, which is sort of ridiculously cute and vulnerable right now as she peaks out, "Okay."

You shouldn't, but you squeeze her gently. "You just need to wash it out, okay?"

You move to the sink with her, and neither of you are talking anymore. You're wondering when it changed so that her pain _really_ bothered you. Or that she knew that it did, and that she could come to you.

--

When it's just the three of you, you focus on the one you want the most.

--

"Well, if it isn't Miss 'Little Red Loser-Hood?"

Casey loves that red top and you know it. Which is why you smirked when you said it.

She glowers at you—and also so does your girlfriend—as Casey joins you at the booth.

"I think red looks great on you," Sally says politely.

You snort. "I don't."

"Derek, stop it!" They cry at once.

You do a bit of a double take, eyes darting between both women, and you're actually not sure who to respond to. So, wisely, you don't respond at all.

"Ugh, whatever," Casey says, setting her purse on the table, "Em and Sam should be here soon. They got a flat or something."

"Bummer," Sally says.

You smirk and flip idly through the menu. "I'm surprised they still didn't beat you here, as slow as you drive."

"I do not drive slowly," she barks at you. And, you already knew this was a sore subject. "I drive responsibly."

"Yeah, sure, whatever, grams."

The menu's snatched from you, revealing a heated glare. "Who's never been in an accident?" she asks, "Who got her license on the first try?"

You take it back. "Who's the biggest suck-up keener on the face of the earth?"

"_Hey_. I helped you pass that test."

"Yeah, and those wheely chairs? _Just _like the real thing."

"Guys, please."

You both turn to your girlfriend, who's hunched over slightly, her hand rubbing by her temple.

"Sorry," you murmur. And, you actually are. You and Sally have had 'this' discussion more than seven times.

"I'm sorry," you say again, covering the hand on her head and slipping your fingers through hers.

"It's okay, Derek,' she says softly.

You only hear her say it, because when you took her hand, Casey was watching, and you caught her. And now she has you caught, and you can't look away.

"…you listening to me?" Sally asks you.

"Uhm, what? Sorry?"

"Derek," she hisses.

Her hand flies from yours, and damnit, you still keep looking back at Casey. What the hell is wrong with you?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you blurt, forcing your eyes to stay on Sally, your girlfriend, "I'm just tired and spacey and weird right now."

Sally looks like she has a lot more to say you; but, thankfully, she tends to be a lot less of a public arguer than Casey. Who, oh yeah, you shouldn't be staring at.

--

You still wrestle her. Intensely. In her room with the door closed. And you're both not under the age of ten.

--

You're fighting over the remote, or the phone, or a piece of string—you can't even remember—because then you're pinning her to her bed.

You're on top, because you like that. And, she's under you, because she hate's that, which you like even more.

Her legs squeeze your waist, and your fingers knead her shoulders, and you both obviously _really_ like these things. And, it's weird, because you're fighting—always fighting—but you know each other so damn well now, that you know all the right and wrong buttons to push.

She whines and acts like it tickles, but she likes it when you touch behind her neck. And, it drives you absolutely nuts to feel her legs gripping you. There's smaller things, like touching her hair, or her touching your ears—it's weird, don't ask—that you've picked up along the way, too.

And, now recently some clothing's started coming off. You're pretty sure there's nothing 'okay' about that. You're also pretty sure you don't care.

She yanks at your sweater, like she's angry—which yeah, she probably is—and you let her, and it's off of you. You think it's only fair you start on hers when your pants stir.

Oh, good, that's your phone.

Or not so good, since it's obviously Sally.

Shit.

You think of answering right away: '_Hey, babe. Yeah, I'm fine. Just hanging out_ _with_ _Case. Ya know, stripping each other on her bed. That's cool, right?'_

But, it's not cool. In fact, it's mostly just hot.

"Ugh, just answer it," Casey finally breathes to you, pushing up slightly on your chest, "You win; you can have the stupid headphones."

The what? Oh, yeah. That's what you came in there for.

--

You're getting weaker. And, Casey and Sally definitely _do not_ like each other anymore. But, they're girls--read: catty--so they don't confess it outright.

--

Sally sees Casey coming into the restaurant and she grabs you and frenches you harder than she does in private. Which would be swell, except for two things: 1) you hate public displays of affection; 2) you don't hate Casey; and you're more than a little sure this will piss her off.

You pull away just in time to see her stiffen and freeze in the doorway.

Okay, so now you're a hundred percent sure.

"Case, hey," you gasp, wiping at your mouth, "You're early."

Her head cocks. Then she slips that sugary sweet smile from her back pocket and puts it on. "Oh, yeah, just thought I'd come by early. You know, grab some tea and chat with my favorite on-and-off-again couple. You guys are so cute like that."

It's Sally's turn to stiffen. And, Casey beams at her.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Well, heh, I'll see if I can finish up a little early then," you interject.

"No, it's fine. Take your time," Casey says, and when you pass her, her hand trails from your shoulder down to the small of your back—which could totally be viewed as innocent. But, it's totally not.

"Uh, uhm, sure."

Please don't talk to each other. Please don't talk to each other. Please don't talk-

"You know," Sally says, almost perky, "I do have a car now. _Soooo_, really not seeing the point in you picking him up anymore."

Shit.

"Well, it's on my way; and we do live in the same house so….really not seeing how you're missing this one."

"Okay, okay." You rush back between them. "Sally—I mean Casey—I mean…"

You actually don't know who the hell you mean. They both stare at you, glowering.

"Do you have an opinion about this Derek?" Sally asks, arms crossed.

"I uh…"

You look between them.

Sally will make out with you.

Casey won't; but you_ really _want her to.

"I could walk?" you try sheepishly.

"Fine, just let her drive you home," Casey finally says, huffing. Sally smirks. And, yeah, you're not gonna lie: besides from being nerve-wracking, this was pretty hot.

"It will save me the gas, and the headache."

Casey struts out the coffee shop. You watch.

You so want her to make out with you.

--

But, maybe your biggest weakness is hers: competition. Someone always has to lose.

--

"Who the hell is he?"

You've finally gotten her alone in the kitchen after glowering speechlessly at some random beef-head she brought home with her.

She smirks at you.

"Oh, David? He's the captain of the Taylor hockey team; you don't remember him?"

Taylor hockey team. _Taylor hockey team._ Damnit, you knew he looked familiar.

"What the hell, Case? They destroyed us last year! Why would you bring him here?"

"Because I just..." She sighs, long and drawn out and her chest rises, "...have this _thing_ for hockey players," she says in your face, "Especially the ones that win."

She grabs the bowl of chips and moves from you, but your arm shoots out like a rod, stopping her.

"I've won more tournaments than he's even heard of."

"What? Do you want a balloon or something?"

You deflate like one. You don't even know what you were expecting. She's smirking at you again, and your mouth moves before you can stop it.

"Maybe I'll just call Sally over. I'm sure she'd give me one."

Right button. Wrong button. Same time.

She bristles. "Asshole."

"Oh, I'm sorry, would that put a cramp in your night?"

"Not if we went up to my room."

"Stop it," you hiss at her, grabbing the bowl and shoving it back on the counter. "I want him out of here. _Now_."

"Right," she says harshly, "Because you just get to have everything and everyone however you want, wherever you want, whenever the hell you want."

Ha! You don't like irony. You never have.

"And, what the hell do you think I want right now?" you question her, invading her space.

"Oh, please," she hisses at you, "What's my hint? 'Starts with Sally, ends with Sally?"

Second time tonight you're speechless. You've never seen her look so damn jealous. Which is ridiculous considering--and, yes, you feel like an ass for even thinking it--you'd drop Sally down a well if Casey asked you.

"I hate you," she says, sucking even more air out of your chest, "And, I hate that I'm 'that' girl. That I've turned into this crazy, jealous person trying to go after you when I know you don't feel the same way."

You feel like you should be saying something, but your mind's numb, blank.

"I used to really like her," Casey says, voice thickening, "She used to be my friend," she rasps, "And, so did you."

She leaves the bowl and shoves away from you, storming out the kitchen.

Oh, yeah.

You're screwed.

--

If you're honest with yourself, this was doomed from the start.

You can't be with the girl you want because—oops—she's your stepsister. And, you can't be with the girl you only sort of want because—oops—you're falling for your stepsister.

--

"She broke up with me," you tell her in the car on the way home from school.

"I'm sorry," she says, and she sounds like she really means it.

You're not sure how to feel about that.

"I'm not."

"Derek-"

"It was screwed up," you say lowly, "Everything. And, _no one_ was happy."

"You seemed pretty damn happy to me," she mutters, her eyes away from you and out the window, "Two girls tearing each other down over you."

"I only want one girl."

"Well, I already apologized about that, didn't I?" she hisses back at you, "I was a bitch okay?" Her voice catches, "And, I'm really, _really _sorry she dumped you."

"_What_? I was talking about you," you say, and you're more than a little baffled. And, apparently so is she, because you're gawking at each other, until finally you have to pull to the side of the road to keep both your bodies in one piece.

"What the hell, Case?" you almost yell at her, "I mean, are we even watching the same channel here?"

"You spent _months_ going after her," she cries back at you, "And, then you asked _me_ to help get her for you."

"You _offered_ your help."

"Ungh, whatever."

"And, I spent the whole time trying to drive _you_ crazy, and then you just kept damn helping her!"

"Oh, and I can see you must have been really heartbroken to have waited all of _no seconds_ to go running off with her."

You're almost shaking you're so frustrated with her. And, you can't figure out how the hell your wires got so crossed.

"You are the weakest part of me," you say to her, your fist cramping over your chest.

"What?"

"I can't fight it and I'm weak. You just make me so weak."

She stares at you, her eyes breaking with emotion. "Why were you with her?"

But, you're not good with words so you reach for her and try to end this with a kiss, but she pulls back from you.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't do the talking thing; you know that."

"So what?" she snaps, "You thought you'd just skip that step and make out with me?"

Yes. Exactly. But, you can't say that.

"No, I-I-uh..."

Shit. You really are stuttering now.

"Can I kiss you?" you try again, "Just a little? Please?"

You think that's polite enough, but she looks like she might slap you. Yet, she doesn't, thankfully, and just turns from you, arms crossed.

You squirm.

"What do I have to do?" you ask her, "What do I have to do to have you? I'll do anything; just tell me."

She turns back to you and you let a spark of hope flicker in your chest.

"Tell me why you were with her," she whispers.

"Because I wanted you," you say, "And, I thought I couldn't have you. And, I'm an idiot."

You swallow and look away for a moment, before asking her, too, "Why did you help her?"

"Because I wanted you," she says wryly, "And I thought I couldn't have you. And, I'm an idiot."

"Then don't fight me."

You unbuckle her and shift over, letting your lips hover over hers. And you're trying to tell her with your eyes what you want to do with your mouth. She listens to you and she pulls at your shirt. But, she makes you finish it. So your lips brush hers and then you stop, making her do it, too.

"Does this feel weird?" you ask her, and for god's sake you are kissing your stepsister.

"A little," she admits, "But, let's keep trying."

--

There's that other girl, the one you want. And, then finally...

She's yours.

--


End file.
